


Speak

by Kalael



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Gender Neutral Runner 5, Minor Character Death, Other, Sam-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never let go of the microphone.  He refused to waiver.  And if his jokes were stupid or his voice grew hoarse, well, it was better that the runners could hear him.  If they were telling him to shut up, at least they could hear him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak

You don’t forget the first time you lose a runner.

Sam had been green, then, still all too new to the communications tower that they had hastily built. Between himself and the certified electrician who had rigged it all up, there was only the scantest of knowledge pertaining to what they needed to do. Janine made it seem easy, but then, she made roughing it in the midst of utter devastation look like a walk in the park. Sam couldn’t compare himself to Janine, not if he wanted to get the job done.

He had taken the microphone, stuttered out an order, and watched as the runners went off. Standard mission. Routine perimeter check. The cameras were all in working order, from what they could tell the major herds of zoms were well out of the way. Nothing could go wrong.

Except it did, and Sam hadn’t been able to give orders, and Runner 12 had been lost. He never forgot when the comm went dead on his side. He could still hear the crackling of the radio, the sobbing breaths, the eventual screaming and the line going dead as 12 crushed his own comm beneath his feet to stop them all from hearing. 12 had been eighteen years old, was an army brat, was wonderfully and stupidly brave. Janine had told Sam not to blame himself, rather kindly, before going on to say they would likely lose many more. The runners were all volunteers, they all knew the risks.

Sam never forgot, and he did his best to steel himself for the future. He had hoped that it would get easier. He prayed to whatever entities that were out there that all his runners would come home, and if they didn’t, well, he prayed that he would be strong enough to keep going.

In some ways it did get easier. He never learned to detach, never quite figured out how to stop himself from shaking when a runner was lost, but he never flinched away from the monitors. He never let go of the microphone. He refused to waiver. And if his jokes were stupid or his voice grew hoarse, well, it was better that the runners could hear him. If they were telling him to shut up, at least they could hear him.

With the new Runner 5, he didn’t know what to do. They were quiet, stern, as most of those who came from military bases were. He didn’t ask why 5 was at the military base, and 5 never explained. 5 didn’t explain a lot of things. But still, Sam tried. Maybe it was because they carried the previous 5, Alice’s, number, but Sam had been drawn to that runner the moment they’d become part of his team. His Runner 5. His responsibility. And, he desperately wished, his friend. But Sam had been respectful, had kept some distance from 5 to let the displaced worker get used to things in Abel. 5 didn’t smile much, but they were quick to respond to orders, and Sam was a little embarrassed to admit to having abused his powers once or twice to lure 5 into a conversation. They would get on brilliantly, Sam knew they would, if only 5 would open up.

He would never forget when he almost lost 5. Talking to static, staring at dark monitors, listening for anything that would tell Sam that 5 was still alive. He was already familiar with the way 5 would snort under their breath when Sam told a bad joke, and the sound of 5 fumbling with the comm piece in order to listen in. There wasn’t any of that. Just static, and darkness.

“Run.” He pleaded. He told 5 things he’d never really talked to anyone else about, things he’d only mentioned in passing before. Most of them don’t like to talk about--before. Sam never liked to bottle it up. So he talked, and talked, and waited for a response. There was nothing, not even a brief ‘shut up, Sam’ to let him know that 5 could hear him. He spoke until his voice went hoarse. If he stopped talking, it’d be like giving up, and Janine stopped pestering him once she realized what he was doing. He was afraid to stop. He wouldn’t falter.

Sam spoke through the night, half asleep at the sound board, when he chanced a glance out the window. It would have been something like a miracle, if he could admit to himself that he believed in those. Runner 5 was a mess, he could see the zoms behind them, and for a moment he felt sick because maybe 5 wasn't his runner anymore, wasn't human anymore. But as he called into the microphone he heard that clumsy fumbling, the sound of fingers against a mic, irritating and so very, very reassuring. 5 was alive. Sam shouted for the gates to be opened even as he tumbled out of his chair, desperate to reach the gate, desperate to find his runner alive.

5 stumbled in, wild eyed as they collapsed within the safety of the compound. Sam wanted to run to them, make sure they were okay, but Janine barked out the orders for 5 to be taken to their makeshift hospital to be looked over. 5 made eye contact with Sam just once before they were hauled away, torn up sneakers practically falling off their feet.

He was terrified that 5 had made it all the way back to Abel just to find that they’d been bitten, but that wasn’t the case. Janine wiped 5’s schedule to allow for healing time, and then she granted Sam permission to visit. He’d barely entered the room when 5 greeted him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Thank you.” 5 said, the words halting and breathless. Dehydration and shock had taken its toll. Sam was so grateful they were alive that he could have cried right then and there. But he didn’t, because 5 had that look on their face that Sam knew all too well, that look that spoke of the numerous horrors they’d all been through and then some.

“I didn’t do anything.” Sam said quietly, but 5 shook their head.

“No. Thank you. For talking. I’ve always listened, you know. I just never...I’d taken it for granted.” And it occurred to Sam, suddenly, how terrified 5 truly was. Being able to hear everything but not be able to speak back, to ask for help, to even let Abel Township know that they were still alive. The only thing 5 had was the out-of-range radio, and Sam’s voice. It was entirely possible that the only reason 5 was alive was because Sam just hadn’t shut the hell up that night. 5 was gripping the bedsheets tightly, breathing forcefully slow, eyes trained on Sam with the single minded intensity that he had only seen in relation to the missions.

Sam had been scared, but it was nothing compared to what 5 had been through. Without being invited to, but knowing exactly what 5 needed, Sam sat on the edge of their bed. 5 tentatively reached for his hand, shaking, and Sam curled his own steady fingers around their’s.

He spoke without stopping, and 5 listened.


End file.
